


Last Dance

by nishiki



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Forgiveness, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, M/M, Major Character Injury, Reconciliation, Sad, Sad Ending, Sappy, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 06:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14302932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishiki/pseuds/nishiki
Summary: After the whole Tetch dilemma, Oswald and Edward are cornered by Barbara and her goons as they were in the middle of killing each other yet again. They manage to escape together, though badly wounded. Knowing that their deaths will be inevitable on that day, Oswald and Edward finally make peace with each other.





	Last Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maka (JanaTearce)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanaTearce/gifts).



There was no question about how this day was going to end for the both of them. The moment in which the door of Salvador Maroni’s old safehouse in the snow-covered countryside of Gotham slammed shut behind them, Oswald knew that they were going to die in this house on this very day. This time, there was no way out, not even for someone as sneaky as him, no matter how much he tried to think of anything they would be able to do to avoid this fate. There was no avoiding it this time. There was no chance that they would get out of this house alive. They were trapped like mice for the cat to come and bite off their heads.

It was almost funny, though.

Their enemies had found them just as they had tried to kill each other once again, blinded by their old grief and the grudge that they held so close to their hearts, unable to recognize the true danger of the situation they were in. To Barbara and her goons, it had come as a very welcome opportunity to find them going at each other's throats out here, just a few miles out of the big city with all it's enticing lights and noises, and not realizing that they had stumbled right into the spider’s web while  Barbara Kean had just waited to strike. All of this had been planned by her, at least to some degree. Of course, she had known that Jim would use Oswald to gain Ed’s attention. Of course, she had known that Ed would betray her and take Tetch from her hands. Of course, she had known that Ed would try to exchange Tetch for Oswald to finally get his revenge. Of course, she had known that it wouldn’t go this way for Ed. She had never really cared for Tetch in the first place, but when she and her goons had managed to pick up their trail and followed them to the countryside, Fortuna had shown herself generous on Barbara’s behalf.

He hadn't known that they would end up in this cabin. He hadn't even known that they would end up in the countryside. He hadn't even known that he would survive as long as he did. Had Barbara not intervened, Jim would have given him to Ed and he would be dead already.

Oswald wanted to laugh as Edward blocked the only door to freedom, their only escape, with a heavy wooden chest of drawers that usually stood right next to the door, while he himself couldn't do much more than to sink down the wall next to the cold fireplace to rest on the dusty ground beside it. No matter how hard he pressed his hand to the wound in his side, the blood wouldn't stop gushing out of him. He felt dizzy and yet he found it in himself to pull the phone out of the inside pocket of his ripped suit jacket. Of course, he knew that his call would be of no use to either one of them, but still, he dialed the number of the only person he could think of that would be remotely willing to help him out in a situation as this.

Jim Gordon did not answer his phone, but Oswald at least left him a message. If he was going to die here, he wanted Jim to know what happened at the very least, no matter how pointless this all seemed now. Knowing that Jim Gordon would sooner or later find their bodies and would know what happened to them, was a small comfort at his impending doom. »We were ambushed.« He spoke into the phone after he reached Jim’s voicemail and suppressed the groan that wanted to rip from his throat at these words. »Edward Nygma and I. It was Barbara Kean and her goons. We are badly wounded and need help A.S.A.P., Detective Gordon. Maroni’s old safe house outside of town.«

»Are you really calling the police for help now, Oswald?« Ed’s voice was a lot sharper than it needed to be as Oswald ended the call, closing his phone with his blood-stained fingers and shoving it back into the pocket of his suit. He knew how ridiculous all of this was and he definitely did not need Edward Nygma to tell him that.

»I don't expect the police to come and rescue us, Edward. If that’s what you think.« He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. Of course, they would not arrive in due time. They would either be found by Barbara soon and shot to death, or they would bleed to death from their injuries. Either way, they were not going to see the sunrise tomorrow. Until now, he had always found a way. Even when his situation had looked dire and he had been uncertain whether he would survive or die, somehow he had never felt like this. Somehow this time it was different and he could feel the finality of it all in his bones. »We are going to die here.«

They both knew that it was just a matter of minutes now, until Barbara and her assassins would arrive at this place to shoot it to pieces. His eyes fell upon Edward who was clutching the wound in his leg. They were both in bad shape and in no way able to run any further away from their pursuers. It was a miracle that they had made it this far already.

»They already know where we went.« Ed bit out as he dragged one of the wooden chairs away from the small table inside the room, scraping it loudly over the floorboards. The same table where Oswald once sat at with Maroni eating oatmeal and drinking coffee. »We left a trail of blood for them to follow in the snow.« It was true what Ed said and yet, even in the eyes of his impending doom with no way to weasel his way out of the situation, Oswald felt oddly calm, relaxed even. His eyes roamed the room he had once been in with Salvador Maroni after the mobster had managed to trick him into following him out to the countryside. Back then, he had been quick to realize the danger he was in and that there was no job for him out here, only death waiting for him by Maroni’s greedy hands. It seemed somewhat fitting that, this time, he would truly find his end here.

»I'm sorry.« The words escaped him before he could stop them and he didn't even plan on stopping them anyway. If that was his chance to repent for his sins, if that was his chance to make amends with the man he had once called his best friend, the man he still so desperately loved, he would gladly take it. »I am sorry for killing Isabella. I am sorry for betraying your trust like this. I am sorry for ruining our friendship out of jealousy. I should have been able to allow you your happiness instead of destroying it. I-«

»Stop it, Oswald.« Edward’s voice was lacking the sharpness he would have expected this time around, for he was sure that all Edward really wanted was to slap him for even using Isabella’s name. Instead, he sounded defeated and his voice hollow. »Please, just stop.« Ed sank down at the small table on the chair he had previously dragged away and Oswald couldn't help but think back to the day he had sat at this table wit Maroni yet again, a smug young man who had been oh so very certain that he had the upper hand because he knew that Maroni had planned to take him out here to murder or torture him, only to be shown that he knew nothing at all. It seemed like a million years ago now. So much had happened ever since that day. So many times had he been certain that he would die. So many times had he lost everything only to come back stronger and even more dangerous. His lucky streak would find its end today, though and there was no question about it. He had never been a man who gladly indulged in illusions of any kind and today was no different.  

If anything, today was the day he would gladly face all his previous illusions and failures that subsequently led to this moment. Had he not mistreated Barbara like he did and taken her more seriously, she wouldn't have had a reason to go against him. Had he not brainwashed and enslaved Butch after Fish’s disappearance, maybe he could have gained his loyalty with mutual trust and understanding instead of enslaving him to his cause, so that he wouldn't have been intrigued to help Barbara just because the woman he loved wanted to help this mad woman. Had he not killed Isabella, Edward would have stayed at his side loyally. There was no question that Isabella would have died sooner or later by Edward’s hands, but at least then he wouldn't have caused his hatred towards his person and maybe they would at least still be friends. There were so many things he wished he would have done differently. But now the city was in uproar because of that virus and they were here, doomed.

Silence settled over the room as both of them were lost deep in their own thoughts, blood slowly dripping onto the floorboards, like the calming sound of a metronome, lulling them both into the tight embrace of death, slowly but surely. Barbara’s shot at Ed had managed to graze the artery in his leg and there was no fixing of that without a hospital to patch them up. He would slowly succumb to his wound in here, just as Oswald would. The wound in his side was jagged at the edges, as Oswald lifted his dress shirt to risk a look at it and regretted it immediately afterward. Though he had been shot, the wound looked more like he had been sliced or ripped open with a bayonet and in the moment he had been certain he would find his organs spilling out of his gut would he take away his hand to hold the wound closed as much as he could. He had already lost quite a substantial amount of blood at this point. His hands felt clammy and cold and Ed looked just like he felt, pale and about to faint, as Oswald risked another look at his former friend and ally. It was such a shame, really. Maybe Edward would have never reciprocated his feelings, that much was true, but at least he could have kept him as his friend. At least they would die in here together but that was little comfort at the moment.

Yes, they had fought, yes he had wanted him dead, but now that the moment seemed so close, his heart was aching. He didn't wish to see him die. The truth was, despite his grief and the pain and the betrayal he had faced from Ed, he still loved him and he felt silly even admitting it to himself. At least his miserable and oh so pitiful life would soon come to an end and he could stop making a fool out of himself for once.

After a moment, his eyes caught on the old gramophone not too far away from the fireplace in one corner of the dusty room and with a last bit of effort, Oswald pulled himself back to his feet, grasping the edge of the stone fireplace with his right hand for support, and a grunt of pain bubbling over his lips no matter how tightly he pressed them together. His right leg seemed even more unwilling to support him as he slowly limped over to the gramophone in the corner. He was lucky as there was still a record lying on top, covered in a thick layer of dust and spiderwebs like everything else in here after all this time that the cabin had not been in use since Maroni’s death. A tiny spider crawled over the table the device stood upon as he approached and switched it on, hoping that it would still work.

»What are you doing?« Edward moaned from the table. He held his head in his right hand, his left pressed to the wound in his leg as if that would make any difference now. His green pants were soiled in blood, making them appear almost as black as tar. Oswald didn't even grant him an answer as, after a moment, he was rewarded with the music coming from the old device. He wasn’t familiar with the song and the record on it was covered too much in dust to make out what the label said. It was slow and a bit melodramatic, perhaps, but apparently something Maroni had enjoyed to listen to. Some Italian opera, judging by the first accords of the music.

He wouldn’t have taken Maroni for someone who liked Operas. Well, he was glad that the sleazy bastard still had a few surprised up his sleeve even in death, apparently. Sadly, weapons hidden in this cabin were not included in this surprise. However, even if he would find a shotgun in here, what good would it do him? He could, at best, blow his own brains out to not give Barbara the satisfaction of having killed him.

For a moment, Oswald just stood there, leaning onto the small table with the gramophone and clutching the sides of it for support, leaving bloody handprints in the dust, before he turned around to face Ed again who was still watching him over the rim of his glasses like a hawk, his hair a disheveled mess falling into his face. The music was not ideal to dance to, and neither was his leg, but he still made his way to the table Edward sat at, grasping the other chair that was closest to him as soon as he had made his way towards it. He could hardly even stand at this point but the music was easing his mind somewhat. If he would go out like this, then at least he would go out with style, he promised himself.

As he extended his right hand to Edward it was trembling quite badly from the blood loss and the dizziness creeping up on him even further now, a feeling of lightheadedness held him in a firm grasp by now. However, the request clear, even to Edward as his amber eyes fell on Oswald’s extended hand and then moved up to Oswald’s own eyes again, lingering a little longer than necessary. »We are going to die today, Ed.« Oswald managed to bit out after a moment of silence between them that was only interrupted by the music from the gramophone, sounding crinkly and about to die on them soon - just like them. »We might as well make peace with each other.«

A cruel little smirk was tugging at Ed’s lips at those words and for a split second, Oswald feared that he would answer his request with an insult or some sarcastic remark, even outright deny him his wish for peace and forgiveness, but the moment was gone as quickly as it came before Edward slowly grabbed Oswald’s bloody hand with his own and rose to his feet. What a pair they were, both unable to run or walk much faster than a snail at this point and yet, as Ed stepped closer, he put his left hand on Oswald’s waist, hovering just above the wound, grasping his right hand even firmer as if in search for support that his buckling legs wouldn’t give him, as Oswald’s left hand came to rest on Ed’s shoulder.

It was hardly a dance at all for the way they moved, but still, to Oswald, it was enough at this moment. The gesture and the touches much more intimate than anything he had ever experienced in his life up to this point. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see their pursuer approaching the cabin slowly as if the assumed their prey would open fire on them, but his gaze remained locked with Ed for this moment. He ignored the world around him, his impending death and the blotches of darkness creeping in on him from the sides of his field of vision. Nothing of this was important. Only Edward and the music and their slow little dance in the middle of this dusty old cabin. At least it wasn’t the pier again. At least Jim Gordon would find them here. At least they would be laid to rest properly. At least they were together. At least he was forgiven.  

The sound that came over Ed’s lips after a decade of silence between them, was startling as he first tried to speak, but only managed a choked little sound before he got his voice to cooperate. »I caused the destruction of Troy, the worst of tragedies and numerous maladies. Yet, I am chased, desired and fought for. What am I?« The moment the riddle left Ed’s mouth in that deep, husky voice he had always used when coming this close to anyone, even Oswald, the first shot fell and crashed the window in Ed’s back before a rain of bullets came down on them.

Ed still held onto him firmly as he fell to the ground, his legs buckling and giving in under the weight as bullet after bullet hit his back, dragging Oswald with him as his right leg gave out under him immediately, allowing his weight to crash into Ed. He didn't even feel the bullet that entered his body through his back and ripped through his lungs as the window behind him was shattered by a hail of gunfire. He could only feel the blood filling his throat as he lay in Edward’s arms on the ground and how his breathing started to hitch in his throat. He couldn't muster the strength to answer Ed’s riddle before he saw how the light drained from Ed’s eyes but as his own world turned into darkness, he knew that all the hardships and all the heartbreak had been worth it for Edward Nygma had, in the end, loved him.

※※※※※※※

When Jim Gordon arrived at the crime scene, he expected the worst. After all this chaos that had reigned over the city these last days because of the Tetch-virus that had held Gotham in an unyielding grip, he had expected blood to be splattered all over the place. He hadn't expected the song that was playing, stuck on the same few lines of it sounding in repeat over and over again. Some Italian aria he didn't even know the name of. It wasn't important anyway and yet, as he and Harvey entered the cabin that had almost been swallowed by the planes of snow around, he was certain that he would never forget this moment and the sight before them. This song would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life.

A few hours ago, Oswald Cobblepot had tried to reach him over the phone and failed as he had been too busy with saving those affected by the virus. Now the sky outside was dark and the snow glistening pure white except for the blotches of crimson leading towards the cabin. One of the officers who had arrived before them had climbed through one of the busted windows to push away the chest of drawers that had been holding the door shut from the inside in a futile attempt of keeping their enemies out, and although the icy wind was brushing through the cabin, the smell of death seemed to linger sweetly over the scene before them.

They found Oswald Cobblepot lying dead in the arms of Edward Nygma on the ground in a pool of blood, frozen in the moment of their death forever. A serene beauty lingering over that scene before them.

»Looks like they’ve been dancing.« Harvey remarked, his voice deep and full with unfamiliar reverie at the scene. What an odd thing to think and yet, as Jim looked to the pair on the ground, their hands intertwined still and staring out of cold dead eyes only at each other as if the world around them had lost all meaning, he could see what his partner meant. That didn't help how heavy his heart felt all of the sudden, though. He should be glad. Two very dangerous criminals less in this city, yet he couldn't tear his eyes from them and he couldn't stop the lump in his throat from forming. All he wanted to do now was to walk over and close Oswald’s blue eyes to rid himself of that unnerving stare that would follow him from now on to the grave. »Who would have thought they were so romantic?«

»Nothing about this is romantic.« It was Lee whose voice seemed to rip Jim from his thoughts as she approached the scene from behind them. Her face, after the loss of her husband at Jim’s hands, cold and unmoving as her eyes fell upon the scene before them. »It's just another tragedy.«


End file.
